


cold drip

by pvc



Category: DCU
Genre: Coffee Shops, M/M, coffee shop au but like... undercover at a coffee shop au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:15:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27133033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pvc/pseuds/pvc
Summary: “I'm going to kill you,” Jason says evenly after the woman lingering near the counter collects her sugar packets and moves out of hearing range. “I know where you live now. It'll be so easy.”(or: Jason goes undercover at the coffee shop under Kyle's apartment)
Relationships: Kyle Rayner/Jason Todd
Comments: 10
Kudos: 193





	cold drip

The thing about the universe is that it hates Jason. It hates him with a fiery passion that he's not sure what he did to deserve. There is absolutely no other explanation for the terrible things that happen to him.

“Aren't you gonna take my order?” Kyle snarks, his head propped in his hands as he leans on the counter. He's got a grin that can only be described as demonic as he continues his torment, and Jason hates, hates, _hates_ him. “Not a very good barista,” he continues. “I might have to put in a word with Radu.”

Because of course he knows the owner. Of course he does. And of course, of all the places in the entirety of New York, Jason's stupid mark had to come _here_ every day. And of course Jason didn't think to check and see if the bane of his existence lived in the apartment above the cafe before he went undercover.

Of course.

Because the universe _hates_ him.

“I'm going to kill you,” Jason says evenly after the woman lingering near the counter collects her sugar packets and moves out of hearing range. “I know where you live now. It'll be so easy.”

Kyle, scandalized, covers his mouth with a gasp. “Why I never!” he says, and he's barely holding back laughter. “Threatening a paying customer! That's a fireable offense, Mister,” he cranes his neck to read Jason's name tag and snickers, “ _Dennis_.”

“I'll be doing the world a favor taking you out of it,” Jason continues. “This block will probably hold a parade in my honor.”

“Aw,” Kyle says. He stands up a little straighter and manages to pull an even _more_ smug expression. “It's cute how you think you could take me.”

Jason's comeback is on the tip of his tongue when the door opens. “Mr. Radu,” he says instead, putting on his best fake smile. “Welcome back.”

“Ah!” Radu says. He looks between Jason and Kyle with a big smile. “I see you have met my number one customer!” He claps a friendly hand on Kyle's shoulder. “Tell me, Kyle, what do you think of our newest addition?”

The smirk Kyle throws Jason is pure poison. _Ugh_. “Excellent choice,” he says, though, turning back to Radu with a sunny expression. Professional, at the very least. Though, he somehow manages to make even that annoy Jason beyond all belief.

He hates this already.

* * *

“Lyle?” Jason calls. “Order for a Lyle?”

“Seriously?” Kyle says, jerking his cup off the counter and looking at the _Lyle_ written down the side with a scowl. “ _Lyle_. That's all you got?”

“Oh!” Jason hams it up, pretending to be mortified. “I—I'm so sorry! I must not have been paying attention. Please forgive me.”

“Kyle,” Radu chimes in just like Jason had hoped he would, “it's only his second day! Give Dennis a break.”

Jason smirks where Radu can't see, cocking his head in the face of Kyle's glower. “Give Dennis a break, Kyle, _geez_ ,” he whispers, and bites his tongue to hold back a laugh at Kyle's snarl.

“I hate you,” he says.

* * *

“This was an assassination attempt,” Kyle says, slamming his cup down on the counter.

“It was black coffee,” Jason replies, trying hard to suppress his amusement at having just watched Kyle almost choke to death when he realized he'd been given the wrong order. “It's probably better for you than that half a cup of syrup you get.”

“'Probably,'” Kyle mocks, finger quotes and nasally voice and all. Jason hates him so much. “Listen, if I cared about my health, I'd be drinking water like a sap,” he says, gathering up eight— _eight_ —creamers and a handful of sugar packets. “I need to be moments from a diabetic coma at all times or I will die.”

Jason taps his pen against the counter with a considering look. “I'll have to remember that,” he says.

Kyle flips him off on his way out the door.

* * *

“That your guy?” he asks on the third day when Jason is too busy trying to nonchalantly eavesdrop on his mark's conversation to give him any shit.

“Yeah,” he says, then quirks an eyebrow as he realizes he had never actually told Kyle why he was here. “How'd you know I wasn't just here doing honest work?”

Kyle snorts as he pours another packet of sugar into this drink. Jason makes a face at the act. He'd even given him his right order today. That's just an ungodly amount of sugar. “I'm not stupid,” Kyle tells him, “and you aren't the type to spontaneously give up the life to become a barista.”

“Oh, because you know my type?” Jason goads.

“Yes,” Kyle says with a smirk, “I do.”

* * *

Kyle disappears for a week after that. Jason doesn't comment on it, but Radu stutters out some excuse about visiting a sick friend of the family after the third day that makes Jason think he knows exactly who it is that's renting the upstairs apartment. Jason's a little annoyed with himself for not figuring out that Kyle wouldn't be able to keep a secret identity to save his life, and _very_ annoyed by the fact that he's making next to no progress on getting dirt on his mark beyond his coffee preferences.

“Gimme something,” Kyle orders the morning he comes back. “Surprise me.”

“We aren't even open yet,” Jason tells him as he turns around, then stops at the state of him. “Christ. Who put you through a meat grinder?”

Kyle pokes at the darkest bruise on his jawline then moves his hands in an arch over his head with sarcastic enthusiasm. “ _Aliens_ ,” he says with feeling, and lets his head fall onto the counter with a thud. Jason can't help but wince sympathetically, but only because that's a stupid move for someone whose face is ninety percent bruises.

“Figured you'd be gone by the time I got back,” Kyle says when Jason slides him a piping hot cup. He's laid out in one of the booths, one leg propped up on the opposite bench. Jason shoves it aside so he can take a seat. “Thought you'd have your case all tied up,” he continues, looking only minimally irritated at the act.

“Yeah, well,” Jason says. “He's either the laziest thief I've ever seen or the craftiest.”

Kyle frowns. “You know who he is. Why not just take him out?”

“Believe me, I'd love to, but I've got reason to believe he's connected to a bigger ring.” He shrugs. “I take him out too fast, and I lose my in.”

“Hm,” Kyle says, looking contemplatively out the window.

“You're being awfully cool about this,” Jason remarks, and Kyle turns to him again. “About me nosing around in your city,” he clarifies.

Kyle huffs out a laugh then winces at the action. “' _My city_ ,'” he mocks. “Could you _be_ more Gotham?”

Jason bristles at the remark. “I mean,” he starts to rectify, “it's on your _block_. You aren't feeling the need to take over?”

Kyle shrugs nonchalantly. “Stealthy stuff like this isn't really my forte,” he says. “I figure you know what you're doing.”

Jason stares at him for a few seconds. “That's... mature of you,” he says finally, unable to keep the bewilderment he feels completely out of his tone. Jason's pretty sure—no—he's _very_ sure he wouldn't be this casual about someone strutting into his neck of the woods and setting up shop. It's... admirable. As much as it annoys him to associate such a word to a pain in his ass like Kyle.

Kyle raises an eyebrow. “I'm not sure how I feel about how surprised you sound.”

“It's not—” Jason stops, running his tongue over his lip as he tries to think of a way to explain this without sounding like a complete asshole. “You've met the Bat,” he puts it simply. “That's who taught me.”

“Ah,” Kyle says, nodding sagely. “Explains your social skills, too.”

Jason doesn't kick him, but only because he's halfway dead already.

* * *

Kyle mopes around the diner for the entire day, and eventually falls asleep in a pile of sketches at around three.

Jason, being the saint that he is, takes pity on him.

“Hey,” he says as he shakes him awake, making a face at the puddling drool accumulating under his chin, “wake up, Captain Coma.”

“Nng,” Kyle grunts. He lifts his head and stares at Jason, apparently oblivious to the sheet of paper cemented to his face with saliva.

“Charming,” Jason says, then jabs a thumb toward the stairs leading up to Kyle's apartment. “You should make the long trek home before the dinner rush hits.”

“Ugh,” Kyle says, and lets his head fall back onto the table. “It's a coffee shop,” he whines into the linoleum. “Who gets coffee for dinner?”

“Enough people that Radu's telling me to kick you out because we'll need the table.” Jason makes shooing motions. “Now scoot.”

“Ugh,” Kyle says again, but he gets up this time, finally removing the paper from his face and mumbling vengefully as he gathers up his pencils.

“You're a demon,” he informs Jason when he walks out from the back of the shop a moment later. “Won't even take pity on a dying man.” He zips all his work up in his bag and fixes Jason with a glare that has all the intimidation of a newborn kitten. Jason rolls his eyes.

“Here,” he says, and pushes an ice pack into Kyle's hands.

“What,” Kyle says, staring down at it with wide eyes like he's just discovering the concept of cold.

“It's an ice pack,” Jason tells him.

“I know _that_ ,” Kyle says. “Why are you giving me an ice pack?”

“You look like shit,” Jason informs him. He motions at the pack. “Put it on your face and it should make the swelling go down.”

“Oh,” Kyle says, looking genuinely thrown.

“Try to keep it there overnight so I don't have the urge to puke when I look at you tomorrow morning,” Jason instructs, and Kyle laughs.

“That's more like it,” he says, and his smile grows at Jason's flat look in response. He shakes his head and turns to head up to his apartment, but pauses with his foot on the first step and looks back.

“Thanks,” he says quietly, then bounds up the stairs before Jason has a chance to respond.

* * *

“His name's Webber,” Kyle says the next day as he slides into the seat across from Jason. He places a folder on the table, looking pleased with himself. Jason is instantly wary.

“What?” he asks, eyeing the folder like it might be stuffed with explosives.

“Your guy,” Kyle clarifies, pushing it closer. “His name's Webber.”

Jason squints at him suspiciously, but picks it up and opens it. “Oh,” he says.

“Or, well,” Kyle starts to babble while Jason picks through its contents, “that's his, like, code name or whatever—what he likes people to call him. Can it be considered a supervillain name if he doesn't have a costume? Or a theme? What's the criteria there?”

“Where did you _get_ all this?” Jason asks, unable to keep the slight awe out of his voice. This is—this is _everything_ he needs: names, numbers, addresses. And that's just the first page.

“Who knows?” Kyle says, positioning his hand under his chin like a cheesy engagement photo to show off his ring, “Maybe I had a piece of technology that's been honed for millennia to do this exact thing or something.”

Jason scowls. “Alright, smartass.” He closes the folder with a sigh, relief at knowing he'll be able to close this mixing with something... else as he realizes this also means he'll be leaving his daily interactions with Kyle behind. He's grown almost accustomed to them, irritating as they are. “Thanks,” he says.

Kyle raises his coffee cup in a mock toast. “Hope I didn't step on any toes,” he says. “Figured you were getting pretty sick of this place.”

“Yeah,” Jason agrees, but it sounds weak even to him. Kyle's eyes snap to him over the rim of his cup, observing Jason with an analytical air for a split second before he grins.

“Aw, buddy!” he teases gleefully. “I'm gonna miss you, too!”

“Ugh,” Jason says, scowling when Kyle starts kicking his leg under the table like an overeager child.

“We've bonded!” he exclaims, wiggling in his seat. “We're bros now!”

“I'm leaving,” Jason says, and kicks himself free of Kyle's legs to head back behind the counter and escape this mess before Kyle notices his blush. Dammit.

“Bros!” Kyle calls after him.

* * *

Radu is pretty okay with Jason's leaving on such short notice. He takes it in such stride, in fact, that it makes him suspect he maybe wasn't as in the dark about who, exactly, he had working the front desk, either.

“I do hope your mother gets better soon,” he says after Jason delivers the excuse, clapping him on the shoulder with an unnervingly knowing smile. “Such a good boy to move back home to take care of her.”

“Thanks,” Jason says stiffly. “Sorry again about not having time to give a heads up.”

“It is fine, fine,” Radu assures, then seems to notice something behind Jason. “Ah! Kyle! Come and say your farewells. Dennis is leaving us.”

“Dennis!” Kyle exclaims, a slightly scolding tone as he descends the last few steps. “Trying to sneak out without saying goodbye?”

Yes, actually. “Never,” Jason lies with a smile.

“Good,” he says, and vaults himself over the counter completely unnecessarily, “because I have something for you.”

“Oh, no,” Jason says, eyeing Kyle as he plucks the top cup off of the stack. He waits for Radu to leave the room before he squints at him distrustfully. “I'm not drinking anything you give me.”

Kyle puts a hand over his heart, affronted. “Bro,” he says in his most scandalized voice.

“Don't 'bro' me,” Jason orders, crossing his arms. “I've seen the unholy concoctions you cook up.”

Kyle rolls his eyes. “Don't knock it 'til you try it,” he says, picking the sharpie up off the counter and pointing it at Jason accusingly before he turns the cup in his hand and starts to write. “Besides, you're flattering yourself. I only make drinks for people I _really_ like.”

“Ouch,” Jason says, and he's halfway to a witty retort when Kyle pitches the empty cup at him.

“Hold on to that,” Kyle says as Jason catches it and flips it around to find the writing—a series of numbers. A phone number. _His_ phone number? He looks up with a raised eyebrow. “My number,” he confirms. “You know, since you're pretty much useless without me.”

“Ha,” Jason deadpans. “Very funny.” There's a stretch of silence. Jason stares down at the number, runs his thumb over it a couple times, considering. Then, pretty sure he's not misreading this, “You give your number to all your bros?” he asks.

“Nope,” Kyle says, popping the _p_. He smirks, and starts to make his way into the back of the shop—to help Radu unload the shipments, presumably.

“Maybe I'll call,” Jason calls after him.

Kyle turns, looking over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow. “You will,” he says with that same infuriatingly smug air of his, then disappears into the next room, leaving Jason standing in the middle of the cafe clutching an empty coffee cup like his life depends on it.

Yeah, he thinks a little helplessly, he will.

**Author's Note:**

> an old fic that i found in my drafts and decided to post! forgive any typos because tbqh i barely even proofread!


End file.
